Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
by Unheard Flipper
Summary: Who will Guard the Guardians? A brainchild of three days on Red bull, while listening to the new Disturbed Album.


_**Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?**_- **Who will Guard the Guardians?: Prologue**

The Sniper breathed calmly, enjoying the smell of the building that was being used for cover, the smell of mold and rotting wood. The abandoned apartment building was like many others in the city of Bogotá, the new regime of President General Luciano Cruz Charrero had let poverty spread through out the country, while he spent his time expanding the army, and attempting to destroy the _cartel_ on behalf of his ally, the USA. The man was a brutal dictator, destroying the old democratic system, which had elected a more pro-left, and anti-American government. Staging a military _coup_ with support from the USA, Columbia now had an almost pure fascist government. The President was a brute, but an intelligent one, he had kept some of the more competent ministers of the old President, and kept "disappearances" quite, and to a minimum. Of course there were still a few public executions, usually, Guerilla leaders and drug lords.

The Sniper watched the assembly from the scope of the rifle. The president was holding a huge rally to win the support of his people, for his wars, his taxes, and his policies. To be honest it wasn't him that the people loved, but his Vice-president, Carlos Gunatsa. It was due to his council, which had kept Charrero in power since the _coup_. Gunatsa was a charismatic leader who had been elected in the previous election, when the General overthrew the government; Gunatsa was quick to join him. Now he worked for the people, he tried to make their lives less miserable, and yet still glorify the President he created rallies, like the one the Sniper watched from two kilometers away, created food banks for the down and out, held parades, and festivals, and other such celebrations. Truly the people loved him. The army on the other hand, supported only the President, which that and the support for him from Gunatsa were the only things that stopped the people from turning on Charrero.

Truly, Gunatsa would have made a better President, but for that to happen Charrero would either step down and retire, be forcibly removed, or die. The Snipers attention returned to the assembly. Gunatsa had out done himself with this one. The huge crowd waved banners, and flags, soldiers marched in parade uniform, and music could be heard, even from where the Sniper was nested. Even though it was mid-morning the heat, and the humidity was becoming oppressive. Even with all the training, patience, and will the Sniper possessed, it was still uncomfortable. The Sniper shifted uneasily, the crosshairs never leaving the assembly, never leaving the target.

The targets speech had gone on for about an hour now.

_Politicians must really enjoy the sound of their own voice, _the Sniper thought, _how else could they go on like that for an hour in this heat._

Finally, the speech end and was greeted with such an arousing cheer that lasted another whole five minutes. The Sniper watched as the target smiled and waved his thanks. The next speaker got up and made his way to the podium, the target took his seat next to the newly vacant one. The time had come, soon the people of Columbia would be rid of Luciano Cruz Charrero and have their republic back. The Sniper pulled the bolt back on his CheyTac M-200, exposing the chamber; The Sniper kissed the bullet, wishing it luck on its journey. The Sniper slid the bullet into the chamber and locked the bolt back into position; all that was needed now was the squeeze of the Sniper's forefinger to release the bolt and firing pin, to strike the bullet and send the round on its deadly journey.

The Sniper rechecked the calculations, they had to be perfect. Any miscalculation and the Sniper would miss. The wind had died down and changed direction; the gage clocked the speed at two km instead of five km, and was blowing twelve degrees north, instead of east. The Sniper adjusted the rifle to composite for the new factors. The Sniper's breathing became slow, and heavy. The time was near.

The Sniper checked over everything once again; the flag at the half way point was flat and dead, the one on the stage however was flapping merrily, again the Sniper adjusted the calculations and readjusted the rifle for a second time, his breathing was kept slow and steady. The Sniper's forefinger ran up and down the trigger, finally coming to rest in the middle. The Sniper took one last deep breath, and as he exhaled, the trigger was gently squeezed. The bullet exploded out of the barrel and flew towards the stage, and the target.

The Sniper felt the recoil of the rifle push into his shoulder, but his gaze did not leave the stage. The speaker looked as if had paused for breath, when the bullet struck the target's head. The head exploded in a mist of bone, brain, and blood. The crowd was silent for a moment and then screamed; the crowd dispersed as people panicked, mothers picked up or ran with their children, husbands and lovers ran while trying to shield their loves. Guards and soldiers stood still, amazed that someone had pulled this off.

The Sniper's mouth pulled into a savage grin, the target was dead.

"Booyah"

Ron Stoppable, picked his rifle up, grabbed his equipment and calculations, and walked out of the room that had covered him for the past three hours. He exited the building through a side exit into a dark alley. Grabbing the crowbar he had left by a dumpster, he lifted the top of the manhole cover and climbed down, covering it up as he descended. The exit had only taken five minutes, and by nightfall he was out of the city, by dawn he was out of the country, curtsey of a small fishing boat.

Vice President, Carlos Gunatsa was dead.


End file.
